"A scabbard?" she asks, incredulous, the stray curls over her eyes making her seem wild. "Is this a joke?"
He glances at the silver sheath he had handed her, the delicate instrument that could feed ten families for months, but that he chose to give her instead.
"No, it's a promise."
"Of what?"
His thumb brushes gently over her throat; she tightens under the touch. "It's to remind you that you will never need weapons. That I will protect you."
He smiles, but her eyes are soft as granite - her words, arrows to his heart.
"Is that what you told her?"